The Space Between
by wolfmusic218
Summary: An anniversary. A friend in need. Surprises for both sides.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Space Between

**Author:** wolfmusic218

**Summary:** An anniversary. A friend in need. Surprises for both sides.

**Author's notes: **Plot bunnies run amok. A sequel is already in the works.

_The Space Between  
What's wrong and right  
Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you  
The Space Between  
Your heart and mine  
Is the space we'll fill with time  
-Dave Matthews Band_

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Carter sat at her desk shuffling papers, trying to look busy. It had been a quiet day so far, but she knew…just **knew**…that something was in the wind. She'd been antsy all day. Even Fusco'd noticed, offering to pick up coffee for her when he ran out to pick up some paperwork from his son's school. She'd declined, not needing any more caffeine than she'd already had today. Maybe that's what it was…she was overcaffeinated. She just couldn't stop the feeling of dread that was washing over her.

When her phone rang, it startled her out of a forced daydream of a white sandy beach, a drink with an umbrella, and no worries. She didn't look at the screen, just flipped open the phone. "Perfect timing, John. One more papercut from shuffling these reports and I was going to go crazy."

The pause on the other end made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "Hello?"

"_Detective, I think I might require your assistance on a…special project." _

_Finch. Not John. This can't be good. _

"A special project? What does that even mean?" Any number of things ran through her mind. She just never knew with those two.

"_Would you be able to meet me at the diner a block down from your precinct in, say, 20 minutes?" _

"I can, but can I at least get a hint of what kind of trouble I might be letting myself in for?"

The pause said a lot to Carter. Now she **knew** there was trouble. But she still couldn't fathom why he wasn't just telling her what it was and letting her do what she did best.

"_All I can tell you over the phone, detective, is that it involves our mutual friend…and the events in New Rochelle." _

Her heart clenched in her chest. "I'll be there in 10."

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Carter entered the diner and scanned through the early dinner crowd looking for Finch. It wasn't long until she spotted him, his head in a book. She slid into the seat opposite him and he looked up, a thin smile on his face.

"Detective, thank you for meeting me. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thanks. What you can do is tell me what's going on with John. Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like it?"

Finch closed his book and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "I wish I could tell you not to worry, but I don't know for sure that we shouldn't."

Carter just stared at him.

"I haven't heard from Mr. Reese in over 24 hours."

She waited; there had to be more. He just sat, hoping she'd catch on. She raised her eyebrows in an attempt get him to get to the punchline. He didn't take the bait.

"Finch. Give me the rest; I'm not following. Why is it a problem? John is a big boy; he's allowed to take a day off occasionally. And he doesn't need your permission, it's not like he clocks in."

He looked uncomfortable under her scrutiny and she was glad; this whole conversation was getting ridiculous.

"Normally, I would agree, but this is a special case. Do you know what today's date is?"

Carter took a deep breath and just shook her head to keep from saying something snarky.

"Today is the anniversary of Jessica's death."

Carter closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Shit."

"Now, don't misunderstand, I don't know for sure that anything is wrong with Mr. Reese. I just have a bad feeling since I haven't heard from him since yesterday morning."

That explained the feeling she'd had all morning. Damn it. She decided against telling Finch, not sure if he'd believe her or not. She wasn't sure if **she** believed that was the cause.

"What do you want me to do? Can't you just go see him?"

Finch paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. "I would, but I don't think he'd be open to any help from me."

"And he would be from me? I doubt that."

The corner of Finch's mouth turned up slightly. "Detective Carter, I think you're the **only** one he'd be willing to talk to."

She digested his words, not willing to try to decipher their meaning. "Why?"

Again, Finch looked down, a smile trying to work its way across his lips. "Let me just say this: he holds you in high regard. You've both experienced a similar loss. John would recognize that, even as he would fight your help."

Carter just shook her head. She wasn't sure she was ready to get into a battle of wills with John Reese, but he'd helped her so many times; she owed him for her son's life. And there was something … just…something…that she'd see in his eyes every now and then…

She sighed. That was another subject she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with.

"What do you want me to do?"

Finch pushed a business card across the table to her. On it, there was a key. "This is John's address and a key to his loft. Please, go check on him. If I know him at all, he's buried in the guilt he's carried all these years. I can't help him, but I think you can."

She nodded, taking the card and key, and standing. "I'll do what I can, what he'll let me do, if I find him."

"That's all I can ask, Detective. Thank you."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** The first chapter was basically the set-up for the meat of the story which begins now. ;) The whole thing is written and will be 4 chapters total. It is not, however, beta'd. All mistakes really are mine, but I'll blame the dog since she kept bothering me while I was editing. Really.

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_Finch pushed a business card across the table to her. On it, there was a key. "This is John's address and a key to his loft. Please, go check on him. If I know him at all, he's buried in the guilt he's carried all these years. I can't help him, but I think you can."_

_She nodded, taking the card and key, and standing. "I'll do what I can, what he'll let me do, if I find him."_

_"That's all I can ask, Detective. Thank you._"

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Carter arrived at the address listed on the card and stood outside staring at the building. It wasn't what she expected at all. It was much higher-end than her building. A coded lock graced the door and she glanced at the card to see if Finch had remembered to write it down. He had. She didn't want to give John the opportunity to keep her out by ringing the bell, especially if he was as bad off as Finch seemed to think he might be.

She punched the code in and pulled the door open with the click and found her way to his apartment. Standing in front of the door, Carter took a deep breath. She had no idea what she was going to say, how she was going to explain being there. She wasn't supposed to know where he lived. She didn't think that was intentional, but she didn't want to get Reese angry with Finch; those two needed each other.

She rapped on the door quickly and waited. Nothing.

She knocked again a little harder. Still nothing.

"Damn it." She hadn't wanted to use the key. That was an invasion of privacy she wasn't sure was warranted. She'd go in, see if he was there. If he wasn't, she would **not **check out his apartment no matter how badly she wanted to. She would wait to be invited. If he was there…well, she'd deal with that when it happened.

Digging the key out of her pocket, she juggled it in her palm a moment before inserting it in the lock and turning. The tumbler turning sounded loud to her ears. It also felt wrong, but the need to check on John superseded that feeling.

She pushed open the door and leaned in. "John? It's Jos. Can I come in?" She listened for any response and, again, got nothing.

She stepped in and glanced around. Her mouth fell open at the size of the loft, its openness. She also noticed the impersonal feel of it. No pictures, no nothing to show that a man in his 40's, who'd basically been around the world, lived there.

Moving further in, she spotted him slouched in a chair facing the window. "John?" Then she noticed his hand hanging down holding a bottle that was resting on the floor. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She now knew where the feeling she'd had all morning was coming from. This was not going to be pretty.

She stepped closer to the chair and craned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing soft. Glancing at the bottle, she was relieved to see that there was some liquor still in it. Maybe he was just asleep. She crouched down next to him and ran her eyes over him. He looked peaceful, but she knew that wouldn't last. She really didn't want to wake him, but she also didn't want him to wake up suddenly and see her in his apartment; she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. Sober, his reaction was predictable. In this state? She shook her head and checked to see if he had a weapon anywhere near him, but didn't see one.

Gently reaching out, Carter ran her hand down his arm and removed his fingers from the bottle, setting it on the table next to him. "John?"

His eyes shot open and before he could focus, he'd bolted from the chair to stand. She watched him waver on his feet and grab his forehead, closing his eyes. He hissed through his teeth, "Shit…"

"Headache there, cowboy?" Jos stood and crossed her arms over her chest.

John sent her a glare through bloodshot eyes that would have wilted a lesser person. Jos just smirked at him.

He ran his hand through his hair, turning away from her stare. "What the hell are you doing here? Or better yet, how the hell did you get in? I don't want company."

"I'm here to check up on you and I got in with a key, like a normal person. Unlike some people, I don't have lockpicking skills."

She watched him walk to the kitchen island and lean heavily against it. Her heart clenched a little for him. She knew he was hurting, but she also knew he didn't accept help. It was going to be a fight. It was time for some tough love.

He turned, facing her, the granite countertop digging into his lower back. His eyes never left hers. She assumed this was an attempt at intimidating her. It might have worked if he didn't look so ragged and lost.

"So, you've checked up on me. I'm fine. Lock the door on your way out."

Not sure exactly what she was doing, she moved into his personal space. "Really? Lock the door on your way out? That's the best you have? I'm so disappointed."

He leaned closer to her, his face inches from hers. "What part of 'I don't want company' did you misinterpret, Carter? Get. Out."

"I'm not leaving."

He gripped her shoulders, shifting her out of his way as he headed to where she'd left the bottle. "Yes. You are. Now."

"No, I'm not. Give me the bottle, John."

He picked it up off the table and took a long drink from it, smirking at her. "This bottle? You want it, Carter? Come take it from me."

She walked to him again, her nerves increasing with the look on his face. This wasn't the John she knew. This was the hardened, unfeeling man he used to be. His face was tilted down, his eyes shadowed, an almost-snarl causing his lips to pull back into a feral grin. She didn't know this man, didn't know how to predict his actions. She'd faced killers, rapists, the worst the world could throw at her; she'd learned to school her emotions with them...it wasn't quite as easy to do with him. There was a personal investment here; he just couldn't see it right now.

"You think you scare me? You don't. I've seen worse than you, dealt with far worse than you."

She reached out quickly and grabbed the bottle from him. The look of surprise on his face would have been funny if he'd actually been at full capacity. Jos glanced at the bottle in her hand, a little surprised herself, and smirked then turned toward the sink.

"Don't you dare."

She looked at him over her shoulder as she tilted the bottle and started pouring it down the drain. "Yeah, I dare. You're done drinking."

"You're not my keeper, Carter." The sound of his voice was a growl just behind her ear.

She didn't turn around, didn't want to see the look on his face. "No, I'm not. I'm your friend."

His huff of laughter blew her hair forward. "I don't have friends. I don't have family."

She felt his arms reach around her, his hands bracketing her body against the sink. She knew this was just another form of intimidation, but she couldn't help the quick shudder that ran through her as his body pressed against hers. He had to have felt it as he pushed forward a little harder. He leaned in and breathed into her ear, "Afraid of what I'm capable of? You should be."

She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it reminded her of what she was dealing with – a man she trusted with her life, with her son's life, in the throes of a drunken pity party. It was time to show him exactly who was in charge and it wasn't him. She was going to pull him out of this kicking and screaming if she had to.


	3. Chapter 3

_She could smell the alcohol on his breath and it reminded her of what she was dealing with – a man she trusted with her life, with her son's life, in the throes of a drunken pity party. It was time to show him exactly who was in charge and it wasn't him. She was going to pull him out of this kicking and screaming if she had to._

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She threw her shoulders back against his chest, pushing him back away from her and spinning to face him. "You don't get it, do you? I'm not afraid of you, John. I've never been afraid of you. In your other life, you might have been scary, might have been able to intimidate the people you were threatening, but I'm not one of those people. Like it or not, I _**am**_your friend and you're not the type of man who would hurt his friends intentionally."

He scowled. "You don't know me at all."

This time, Jos attempted a smile as she stepped forward and punched a finger into his chest. "I know a lot more than you think I do."

He stared at her, his eyes still bloodshot, his face still flushed. "You don't know shit."

"You wanna test that theory, John?"

He pushed against her again, his hands grabbing her shoulders. "Come on, Carter, spill it. Tell me all the things you think you know about me."

She twisted out of his grasp and stepped to the side, shooting him a glare. "I'm going to. Just remember you asked for this."

Pausing to collect her thoughts, she tried to justify the wisdom of hitting him with all this in the state he was in. She hadn't planned to tell him the things she'd learned when she'd gone to New Rochelle. The talk with Jessica's mother. The file she'd gotten about him. The picture. It wasn't time. He wasn't ready to hear it.

"I'm waiting."

She could hear the barely disguised panic in his voice, the fear of his secrets being exposed. She didn't want that, but he wasn't giving her a choice.

She turned to him, her face a mask of calm. "I know why you're drinking yourself into a stupor in the middle of the week, about the guilt you feel for something you couldn't change, something that no one but Jessica could have changed."

His eyes widening for a split second told her she'd hit the mark. She turned away from him; from the pain she saw gathering again, and walked towards the window looking out over the park.

She didn't have long to wait for the anger to come. He strode towards her, his eyes hooded, the anger radiating off of him. He gripped her shoulders, spun her around to face him, and pushed her against the wall. "Don't. I don't know how you know about it, but don't ever try to tell me you know how I feel, Carter. Not ever. You don't have any idea."

"Really? I lost my _**husband**_, John. I wasn't there when _**he **_died. I don't know that guilt? Fuck you."

He growled at her and pushed her harder against the wall, his restraint straining with every second, his grip tightening on her shoulders. She could see the conflict in his eyes. He understood, but he couldn't face it.

She winced against the pain. She had to put a stop to this before he did something she knew he would regret. It was time to fight back, to give him something else to focus on.

She stepped forward, her left foot landing next to his, at the same time using both arms to sweep across and break the hold he had on her shoulders. She stepped forward again and threw her left arm across his collarbone, twisting her body to the side, throwing him off balance and to the ground. It was a classic Aikido move that someone of John's skill would have easily countered if he didn't have at least a half a bottle of Wild Turkey flowing through his body.

What she didn't see when she started the throw was the chair so close to them. John went down hard, hitting the back of his head on the arm.

"John!" She fell to her knees next to him, checking for blood, but afraid to move him. She pulled her hand back, her fingertips covered in blood.

She let out a breath of relief when she heard him groan.

"Shit, Carter." He reached for the back of his head, hissing when he found the knot.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but you deserved it. Just get up and sit on the couch. Let me take a look at it." She wrapped her arm under his and around his back, helping him up, moving him to the couch.

Jos watched him deflate a little, as if the knock on the head released some of the pent up rage and fear. She went to the freezer and, after finding a towel, wrapped some ice in it. She looked over at him from the kitchen area, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. He might not be sober, but she could tell by looking at him that he was going to be less difficult to deal with.

"Do you have any peroxide?"

"Under the sink." She smiled at the resigned tone of his voice.

She grabbed the roll of papertowels, peroxide, and the ice and sat next to him on the couch. He didn't look at her, so she set it all down on the table.

"Let me see your head."

"Jos…"

_Ah, we're back to Jos now, that's a good sign._

"You sure you want to argue with me?" She leaned down to try to catch his eyes, but he turned away.

"Fine."

John dropped his head lower and allowed her to probe around in his hair until she found the knot and the small cut.

"Hand me the peroxide and papertowels." He did without hesitating. She couldn't help the small grin that fought its way onto her face.

"I like you much more when you're submissive like this." When she poured the peroxide on the towel and dabbed it on the cut, he flinched and pulled away.

"Oh, did I forget to mention it might sting? Sorry."

He went to turn his head and she gripped his chin, keeping him in place. "Don't move."

"I never realized you had such a mean streak in you." She felt him smile slightly.

"You just bring it out of me, I guess. It's what happens when people you care about are doing destructive, stupid things to themselves."

He didn't say anything, just sighed as she continued to clean up his wound.

"There. I think that'll do it." She leaned over and grabbed the ice, twisting the towel to keep it closed. She placed it gently on his head and grabbed his hand. "Here, hold this."

John leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. She watched him for a minute, giving him time to collect his thoughts. When he didn't say anything, she pulled her legs up under her and turned towards him. She ran her hand down his arm and covered his hand with hers.

"Finch give you the key?" His voice was much quieter, more resigned. The storm seemed to be clearing.

She squeezed his hand, surprised when he turned his hand over and gripped hers, never opening his eyes. She recognized it for what it was: an attempt at an apology, something he wasn't very good at giving. "Yep. See, that makes two of us at least."

He turned his head towards her, wincing, and opened his eyes on a slow blink. "What?"

"Finch gave me the key because he was worried about you, thought maybe I could help more than he could. That makes two of us that care about you. Three if you count Taylor, who's convinced that you're a complete badass. If he could only see you now, taken down by his momma." She winked at him and bumped his shoulder with hers.

"Yeah, well, you never mentioned you were part ninja." He bumped her back and fought a smile.

She leaned towards his ear. "There's a lot you don't know about me, mister."

He closed his eyes again and leaned the back of his head against the ice. "And yet, according to you, you know everything about me."

"I wondered if we were going to get back to that. I kind of hoped we wouldn't."

John turned his head towards her, his brows furrowed. "Why? Isn't that why you're here?"

"No. I came because I care about what happens to you. I know how hard dealing with the guilt can be." She ran the back of her index finger across his jaw. "And I really didn't want to see the beard again."

She got the chuckle she was hoping for and laid her arm over the back of the couch, her hand behind his head, her fingers absently running over his holding the towel full of ice.

She couldn't help but think that this situation wasn't them. They didn't touch, they didn't share, and they didn't fight. At least not like this. And yet, here they were. She didn't really know what to make of it. She liked it, though, could get used to having quiet moments with him. Preferably without having to nearly knock him unconscious first.

He shifted and pulled his leg up on the couch to face her. "So, what do we do now? I know there are things you want to tell me."

She laid her head on her arm and shared a small smile with him. "I'm that easy to read, huh?"

He shrugged.

She moved to get up and he put his hand on her arm. Jos shook her head. "I'm not leaving, John. I just think showing you something first might…" She couldn't find the words to explain what she was about to do.

She walked to the door and bent to get her purse, feeling his eyes on her the whole way. This had to be the right thing to do. She couldn't think of any other way to tell him.

"I got this when I talked to Jessica's mother." His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say anything. "She knew about you, but only that you and her daughter had dated. This was locked away in Jessica's things, in some place only she knew about. You mattered to her, John, even after you were no longer together."

When she handed him the picture, Jos noticed his fingers trembling just the slightest bit. That small thing set her nerves on edge. John wasn't afraid of anything…but something this close, something so personal…they didn't do this. It was forging new territory for both of them. She was ready for it, for the friendship, for whatever came with it or after it, but she wasn't sure he was. She decided that she'd make sure he knew, no matter what, he would always have a place in her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So, this is it: the last chapter. It's been amazing to receive all the reviews and follows and everything. You guys really do support this fandom and I'm so glad to be a part of it. Thank you.

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_She was ready for it, for the friendship, for whatever came with it or after it, but she wasn't sure he was. She decided that she'd make sure he knew, no matter what, he would always have a place in her life._

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They didn't say anything for a minute. She sat next to him on the couch, waiting and watching as he ran his finger over the picture, a wistful smile on his face. John cut his eyes over to her and drew in a deep breath.

"She called me right before she…" He swallowed hard. "It went to my voicemail. I was out in the field, on assignment...hadn't heard from her in so long…when I finally got back to her, I could hear it in her voice…she was scared of something. I didn't know what it was, she wouldn't tell me, but I told her I'd be there, that I'd help her."

Jos smoothed her hand over this hair, encouraging him to continue. She knew, without a doubt, that he'd never told anyone any of this. He'd held it in for so long; it needed to come out. She wanted to be the one he leaned on when he finally let go of the guilt.

"You couldn't have known."

"Maybe not, but I let her down, again." He looked down at the picture again. "We had this taken while we were in Mexico. It was a weekend away that turned into almost a week. It was like the outside world didn't exist while we were there. I had decided to leave the service and told her that. She seemed happy about it. Then 9/11 happened and I re-upped; felt I had to. We fought about it. I left. I left her. I don't know what we would have been if I hadn't."

"You loved her, but John, you can't live on what-ifs. I learned that a long time ago."

"I know that, but I can't help the feeling that if I'd made a different choice, she'd still be alive."

He set the picture down on the table and shook his head when she opened her mouth to argue with him. He continued like he just couldn't stop the words.

"And then, after I got sober..." he cut his eyes at her and rolled them. "...I started asking myself if I'd really loved her. We'd only been together six months, we'd barely told anyone, I'd only met one or two of her friends. Maybe I just loved the idea of her. The freedom she represented. Would a man in love leave like that?" He looked at her, his eyes pleading for some answers, then looked down again. "I've been told it was my way of walling myself up, asking myself that."

Jos picked up the picture and smiled at it. "You look so different, so very happy. But, John, don't question whether you loved her. It might not have been the forever kind of love you were looking for, but there was definitely something there. You made choices that changed the course of your life. You made the choices that were right for _**you**_. She made the choices that were right, at the time, for her. You can't let the choices made then dictate the rest of your life like you have. You have to let it go or you're never going to find what you need."

He was quiet when she finished, just watching her, his eyes soft and glistening. "What do I need, Jos?"

She shook her head and ran her hand over his jaw. "I can't answer that for you; I wish I could. I do think you've made a good start, though."

Jos moved to get up and he laid his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. "Yeah?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled as she watched him pull his legs up and stretch out on the couch, his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, I do. You have a purpose now, a goal. The rest will come eventually, the more you open yourself up for it."

She heard him grunt in agreement, or what sounded like one, and Jos moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She had a feeling it was going to be needed; she hadn't told him everything and she wanted him stone-cold sober when she did. She needed some distance. This side of John was something she hadn't prepared herself for; she'd expected the anger and the manipulation, but this vulnerable, sensitive side of him was pulling her in. She wanted to blame the alcohol, but she had a feeling it wasn't just that. The alcohol was just bringing it out without the barriers he usually threw up to protect himself.

When the timer went off on the coffee maker, she startled out of her fog and realized she hadn't heard anything from him the whole time.

She slipped her shoes off and tip-toed over to the couch. He was sound asleep. The corner of her mouth turned up as she watched his eyelids flutter with his dream. She reached down and pushed the hair off his forehead, letting her knuckles graze his cheek. She froze when his head shifted, searching out her hand. Not even thinking about it, Jos opened her palm and cupped his jaw, her thumb softly running over his cheek.

Jos knew she wasn't going to leave him to wake up alone, so she used the time to make a few calls. She called Finch first, letting him know that John was OK – more or less – but wouldn't be available until at least late morning the following day.

Her next call was to Taylor. They talked for a few minutes just going over his day, but she couldn't explain much to him about what was happening; it wasn't her story to tell. She told him she was taking care of a friend who needed her and she didn't know when she'd be home. It wasn't a lie. Taylor took it all in stride as he usually did and told her to call him if she needed anything. Jos couldn't help the smile her son always pulled from her.

Looking over at John, she was surprised when she realized that she really did consider him a friend. She just hoped it stayed that way after he woke up.

A couple hours passed and Jos spent the time reading the paper spread out on the kitchen counter and checking out the few books John had stashed on his floor to ceiling bookshelf. She ordered some dinner and put some aside for him when he finally woke up.

It shouldn't have surprised her when, an hour or so later, she felt him behind her as she watched the darkness fall on the park below.

He leaned his hand near her head on the window jam, his body close but not touching hers. She was caught off guard by the hum of disappointment that ran through her.

"Surprised you're still here." His voice was soft and close.

She could see him in the reflection of the window and caught his eyes with hers. She watched his right hand flex and relax, like he wanted to do something with it, but was debating whether or not he should.

She reached back, took hold of his hand and squeezed. He looked down at their hands and ran his fingers through hers, holding on.

"I didn't want you to wake up alone; you've had a rough day."

She felt his warm breath on her neck as he leaned down. "Which was made easier, thanks to you. Even with the bump on the head."

Jos squeezed his hand and moved out of his grasp, the weight of his words making her feel like she was about to sweep his legs out from under him. She knew he was going to be furious with her and she wished, more than anything, she could avoid that but didn't see any way out. She wanted to stay in the bubble they'd created around themselves over the past few hours.

"Jos?"

She turned to look at him and saw the confusion at her sudden change in demeanor written on his face.

"It's nothing." At his raised eyebrow, she gave him a small smile. "Really. There's just more I need to tell you."

John cocked his head and watched her. She felt his gaze and walked over to the kitchen, cleaning up the counter of the remnants of her dinner. "There's some food in the refrigerator for you. I wasn't sure what you wanted or could handle, so I ordered a little bit of everything. Got it from the Chinese place down the street. It was the only place I knew that delivered. I didn't want to leave..."

Again, she felt him behind her and watched as he reached out and stilled her hand, interrupting her. "You're babbling. Come sit down and talk to me."

She let him lead her to the couch and sat down on the opposite end, not looking at him. She tried to gather her thoughts, but she couldn't figure out a way to tell him.

She heard him sigh and turned her head to look at him.

"Are you dying or something?"

"No."

"Is something wrong with Taylor?"

"No."

"Am _**I **_dying?"

She barked out a nervous laugh. "Not that I'm aware of."

He moved closer to her and leaned in, caught her eyes with his. She couldn't look away. He pinned her with them, a skill she figured he'd learned in his years with the CIA. Or maybe it was just how amazingly blue his eyes were tonight.

John reached out and ran his thumb over the hand resting on her thigh. "Then please, just tell me. You're making _**me **_nervous."

"I know who you are. Who you _really_ are." She swallowed hard and stood, moving away, preparing for the explosion she knew would happen.

"What?"

She could hear it in his voice, the fear, the betrayal. She heard him stand and pace around the livingroom. She couldn't look at him, couldn't handle the disappointment she knew she'd see. She heard him take a deep breath and when she felt him behind her, she was struck by the gentleness of his hand on her hip, turning her.

"Jos, look at me."

She just shook her head slowly, her chin against her chest.

He tilted her head up with his index finger. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes and focused on him, not surprised at all at the neutral look on his face. Another learned skill, she was sure. Don't give away your emotions.

"Tell me everything. Please."

It all came spilling out of her: the trip to New Rochelle, the call to her friend, the file, learning his real name, not just his aliases….everything. She couldn't stop talking, no matter how badly she wanted to.

John was quiet through the whole thing, just watching her, reading her. When she was done, he just nodded and turned away from her. He made his way to the window, where the whole conversation had started. She couldn't move.

"What are you planning on doing with the information, Jos?"

She shook her head with the shock, her eyes wide. "What am I planning…are you kidding? Nothing! The file is gone!"

It was his turn to be shocked and this time he didn't school his features to hide it. It was the one piece of information she'd neglected to share with him.

"Do you honestly think I would tell you all of this, risk pissing you off, if I was going to do something with it? If I was going to turn you over to the CIA or the FBI or whoever the hell else is looking for you?"

"Where is it? The file…"

She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. "Probably in some landfill in Staten Island. How the hell should I know? I shredded it."

She watched his jaw work but no words came out. He ran his hand through his hair and to her surprise he let loose a laugh like she'd never heard from him.

"You shredded it?"

She nodded and blushed. "Yeah." His laugh was infectious and she smiled back at him.

"I can't believe you shredded it. Your moral compass is tilting, Carter."

At that, her smile disappeared. "No, I don't think it is. It's in the same position it's always been in. I did it for all the right reasons. Part of it was selfish, yes, but most of it was to keep a good man from suffering for things he had no control over then."

Again, he pinned her with his eyes, his smile just a little smaller, but still there. She felt a fluttering in her belly as he moved slowly towards her. "And the selfish part?" He stopped just short of her personal space.

She looked up at him, unafraid. "I believe in what you're doing. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here. I might not always agree with your methods, but the right outweighs the wrong in my book."

"And?"

"You're pushy, you know that?" Her mouth quirked into a half smile and she looked away.

He leaned a little closer, "_**And**_?"

She stepped forward and laid her hand on his chest over his heart. "And…you're my friend. I care about you and what happens to you. I want to be there when you find the things you're looking for. I want to celebrate them with you."

The next thing she knew, his strong arms surrounded her and pulled her against his chest. Instinct made her wrap her arms around his waist.

"What if one of those things is you?"

It was barely a whisper, and she pulled back, positive she hadn't heard what she thought she'd just heard. "What?" Her eyes were wide and searching his.

She watched his Adam's apple bob once or twice and felt him press his lips against her forehead. "Nothing. We'll save it for another time."

Jos swallowed and nodded, not willing to start _that_ conversation after the evening they'd just had. She had to process it. And, she figured, so did he.

When John finally let her go, she cleared her throat and looked up at him. "So, we're OK?"

He nodded. "We're good. If someone had to get their hands on that file…." He shook his head, his hand in his hair. "I'd say I was very lucky it was you."

She cocked her head at him. "No luck involved, mister. I'm just that damn good."

"I have absolutely no doubt about that."

Their eyes locked and held for a long moment before she broke the gaze. "Now, if you're feeling better – I know I am – I'm going to go. It's late and Taylor probably thinks I've forgotten about him."

She headed towards the door, picking up her purse and coat as she went. She was uneasy again and she could tell he knew it just by the cocky grin on his face. Damn it.

"Jos."

She stopped in her tracks facing the door. "Yeah?"

His hands landed gently on her shoulders and he leaned down, brushing her ear with his nose. "Thank you for tonight. For being here when I needed…a friend. It...it means a lot to me."

She nodded quickly. "You're welcome."

He reached past her and unlocked the door, opening it. "Tell Taylor thank you too."

She turned and smiled, stepping backwards into the hall. "Good night, John. Get some sleep."

"I'll sleep well tonight, I'm sure."

At that, Jos turned and headed down the hall.

When she made it to the park, she couldn't resist the urge to look up at the window. He was there, shadowed against the glass. He raised his hand in a wave and then turned back into the light.

Jos smiled, waved at his retreating form, and headed home.


End file.
